


Counterparts and Counterpoints

by justanexercise



Category: Person of Interest (TV), The L Word
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F, mostly just root/shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanexercise/pseuds/justanexercise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new number comes up and looks surprisingly like Shaw, despite her protests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterparts and Counterpoints

 

 

“Come on boy, go get it!”

Shaw claps her hands together, encouraging Bear as he digs his nose under the shelves.

“Finch isn’t going to be happy,” Reese says, tossing the used rag onto the table and reassembling his newly cleaned gun.

“Don’t think he’d like Bear coming up with rat entrails around here.”

He pushes bullets into a magazine.

“I wouldn’t like it either.”

“Fine,” Shaw says, snapping her fingers, “Bear hier.”

Bear whines, paws clicking across the floor to his bed. Shaw sneaks him a treat, patting his head.

All three of them perk their heads up at the familiar lopsided footsteps echoing from the stairs of the subway.

“New number?” Shaw asks, eyes shining in anticipation.

“New number,” Finch confirms, settling onto his computer. He frowns, brushing off the chip crumbs onto a trashcan. He glances at them, eyebrow raised.

“Told you to clean up Shaw,” Reese says.

“Shut up.”

Finch shakes his head, typing the new number onto his computer. His eyes zero in at the picture on his screen. Slowly he turns his chair to face Reese and Shaw.

“What’s wrong Finch?” Reese asks, stepping in behind him.

He stands stock still and turns to Shaw. Back to the computer. And to Shaw. Back to the computer. And to Shaw.

“What?” She settles in next to them, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up with you guys?”

She leans over Finch’s shoulder to study the picture.

“Something wrong with her?”

“Carmen de la Pica Morales,” Finch says. “Not an old alias then?”

Reese raises an eyebrow.

“She looks just like you Shaw.”

“Are you two blind? We look nothing alike.” Shaw reads the details on the monitor, eyes rolling. “And she’s Hispanic.”

Finch exhales.

“Whoever she is, she’s going to need our help.”

-

“Find anything in her room?” Shaw asks.

She takes another picture of Carmen walking down the street. Carmen walks too slow for Shaw’s taste, using her own cell phone to take pictures of the surrounding areas, bumping into people walking around her. Shaw shakes her head.

“I hate tourist, where’s she from?”

“Los Angeles, Miss Morales works as a production assistant and DJ’s at night,” Finch says. “So far John hasn’t found anything useful in her hotel room, completely normal.”

“So we’ve got no idea who wants to kill her, or who she wants to kill.”

“Not at the moment no.”

“Computer?”

“Not in the room.”

Shaw pursues Carmen on foot, slipping out her cellphone to bluejack Carmen’s. Success. She pretends to be interested in the street vendors selling knockoffs while Carmen waits at the crosswalk.

Carmen fiddles with the large messenger bag across her shoulder.

“Pretty sure she has it with her.”

Shaw goes through Carmen’s phone, sifting through the messages and phone calls.

“Seems to be in contact with one person the most for the past week, Heidi Gomez.”

“Judging by her work e-mail, Miss Gomez is a club promoter, hired Miss Morales to do an event this weekend. No apparent threatening e-mails to Miss Morales, nothing on her social media sites either.”

Carmen checks her phone, Shaw seeing her activity on her own screen. Maps and location to the building Carmen’s standing in front of. Carmen enters while Shaw circles the building. Noting the decoration with excessively bright colors of the rainbow, Shaw connects to her microphone, listening in instead.

_“Carmen, so glad you could make it on such short notice.”_

_“Not a problem Heidi, is this the space?”_

Shaw switches on the microphone to her earpiece.

“Looks like this is the club Morales is going to be at.”

“Indeed, her social media all promotes her gig at Club Space, I’ll hack into their guest list and put Mister Reese on.”

“What, I’m not going clubbing?”

Carmen’s conversation filters back in, saying goodbye to everyone.

Shaw waits a moment before following her. She passes by the entrance to the club.

“Carmen!” Heidi says, grabbing Shaw’s arm.

“Phew, just caught you, good. Sorry about the deposit, just got it squared away at the bank, I’ve talked with Lilah, she’s giving you an extra $200 for the trouble.”

Heidi gives Shaw a once over, eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you get changed?”

Shaw stares.

Heidi shifts uncomfortably and chuckles.

“Oh, must be the black coat,” Heidi says, shaking her head.

“So, yea we’re very sorry about the mixup.”

Shaw nods, yanking her arm from Heidi’s grip and speed walking to catch up to Carmen.

“And that is why Miss Shaw, you cannot go into the club tonight,” Finch says.

“Everyone’s blind, good luck getting John in,” Shaw hisses.

 “Why do you say that?”

Shaw smirks.

“It’s a lesbian club.”

“Oh, well that shouldn’t be a problem then.”

Her face drops.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“So he gonna be a bouncer then?”

“Not exactly.”

Shaw narrows her eyes, watching Carmen hail a taxi.

“And what exactly is the plan then?”

-

“This is a stupid plan,” Shaw says.

She tears open the granola bar wrapper with her teeth, shoving half of it in her mouth. Looking out the window of the car, Shaw rolls her eyes at the line of women just waiting to get in.

“Your opinion has been noted Miss Shaw, as has your previous ten grievances in the past half hour,” Finch says.

“At least John gets to stretch his legs,” Shaw complains, looking through her binoculars to spy on Reese.

“You wanna trade places Shaw?” Reese asks as he brushes pass another group of women, all shivering in the cold in their short dresses.

“I’d rather be in the club.”

“Miss me that much Sweetie?” Root says.

“I miss you like mold.”

“Your similes need a bit of work.”

Shaw crinkles the wrapper in her hand, biting off the rest of the granola bar.

“Everything alright Miss Groves?” Finch asks.

“Wonderful, got a free drink from a very nice lady in fishnet stockings.”

“I meant with Miss Morales.”

“She’s waiting for her set, drinking a beer. No obvious signs of danger yet, well aside from the abysmal beer on tap.” Root hums. “Sameen, you would look amazing in a mini skirt and vest. Red, not black.”

“What the hell are you talking about Root?”

“Carmen can pull it off.”

Shaw thumps her head on the steering wheel. “We do not look alike.”

“Of course you don’t, that’s why you’re outside in the cold and I’m in here with a lot of excitable lesbians.”

“Miss Groves…” Finch warns.

“Sorry Harry,” Root says, not sounding the least apologetic.

Reese opens the passenger door, sliding in and putting his hands up to the heater.

“Tapped into their telecom box Finch. You get the feeds yet?”

“Yes, I can see, as much as you can see in a dimly lit club, but I have eyes on our number and – Miss Groves? What are you doing?”

Shaw’s body tenses, her hand ready to unlock the door and storm into the club, guns blazing.

“Don’t worry Harold,” Root says. “I’ve been doing just fine without a safety net.”

“The last time you said that,” Shaw grits out, “you ended up with two bullets and a cochlear implant.”

Shaw waits, shifting in her seat, the thumping sound of music ringing in her ear. She hears a distant _thanks_ amidst the noise.

“What was that?” Shaw asks.

“Our number looked thirsty,” Root says.

“You bought her a drink?”

Feeling eyes on her, Shaw turns to Reese and glares.

“What?”

Reese tilts his head to the death grip she has on the steering wheel. Shaw scoffs, easing up.

“Miss Groves…” Finch says.

Shaw raises an eyebrow at his tone.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on our number?” he asks Root.

“I can multi-task Harry.”

“What’s she doing?” Shaw asks him.

“Dancing,” Root answers.

“Seriously?”

“Just blending in Sameen.”

Shaw taps her fingers against her thigh.

“She’s good in this crowd,” Root says.

“Her music taste sucks.”

Root hums.

“It sounds alright to me and all the ladies here sure do like it.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Shaw settles back into stakeout mode, bulling her monocular to survey the exterior.

“No threats?” she asks.

“Just a bunch of horny lesbians,” Root replies. “She’s almost done with her set.”

Shaw sighs, still no promise of action.

“Harold?”

“I don’t see any threats either Miss Shaw. Perhaps Mister Reese can check the perimeter.”

“I’m going,” Shaw says, already getting out of the car.

“Miss Shaw –“

“I can be invisible Harold.”

A beat and Finch sighs in defeat.

“Don’t shoot anyone without me Shaw,” Reese says, waving at her from the car.

She sticks to the outside, her clothing not quite suitable for a night out of town; her customary armor of black slacks and black shirt under her black coat. Shaw shakes her head, nothing but drunk couples making out in the back alleys.

“ _Hey.”_

Shaw rolls her eyes at Root’s sultry voice through the comms. She opens her mouth to deflect Root but another voice stops her.

“ _Thanks for the beer, I think I owe you a dance.”_

“Really?” Shaw says. “That’s the line she’s going for?”

_“I’d like that.”_

“Is she dancing with her?” Shaw asks.

“It…appears that way,” Finch hesitantly answers.

“What’s the matter Shaw? Feeling a bit left out?” Reese asks, teasing.

Shaw doesn’t answer, listening intently to the soft beats of the music through her ear piece. Her hands clench into a fists at Root’s sharp intake of breath and a moan that is entirely not Root’s. She checks the time, ten minutes have passed. Ten minutes of grinding dancing. Probably.

 _“You wanna get out of here?”_ Carmen asks Root.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Shaw says.

_“Thought you’d never ask.”_

“Root what the hell –“

A beep interrupts her. Shaw frowns.

“Did she just cut me off? Is her implant still on?”

“Miss Groves is leading Miss Morales out from the side entrance,” Finch says, “two assailants are at the back entrance waiting for them.”

“Finally,” Shaw says, pulling out her gun. She quickly and stealthily makes her way to the back alley, spotting the two men lurking in the shadows. Not amateurs. Shaw kneecaps the first guy and the second one dives out of the way, shooting back at her.

Ducking behind the wall, Shaw returns fire, until she hears the satisfying thump and groan of another dropped body.

She takes away their guns, their wallets and their phones before knocking them out.

“Got two gifts for Fusco,” Shaw says.

“Where’s Root?”

“Taking Miss Morales to a safe location,” Finch answers evasively.

“What, the safe house?”

“Who were the perpetrators?” Finch asks.

Shaw goes through their wallets.

“New York license, hiring locals then.”

She takes a picture of their ID’s and sends it over to Finch. She goes through cellphones next.

“They’re using Vanish Text,” Shaw says.

“Wonderful, I’ll take a look at their phones, see what else we can come up with.”

Shaw steps onto the street, getting into the car when Reese pulls up right next to her.

“Where’s Root and the number?” Shaw asks him.

“Safe.”

“John…”

He blinks.

“Last I heard, Morales asked her back to her hotel room.”

“Last you heard?”

“Root turned off her transmitter.”

Shaw turns away from him, staring out the window. Her jaw clenches. Her hand pats the phone in her pocket, tempted to call Root. She shakes her head, sulking in her seat instead.

-

Dropping into the bench, Shaw crosses her arms and glares at Finch.

“Fusco get anything out of them?”

“They’re exercising their 1st amendment rights, but Detective Fusco at least has them on for an unregistered weapons charge,” Finch says. “Whoever wants Miss Morales dead is certainly not playing around. They’re part of the Latvian mob.”

“Pretty heavy hit for a DJ,” Reese chimes in.

He looks around, noting Shaw’s disgruntled expression, he asks “Where’s Root?”

“Currently with our number,” Finch says. “She checked in just before the two of you arrived. Miss Morales is safe and still none the wiser about her current brush with death.”

Reese raises an eyebrow.

“It’s noon. She’s still with her?”

Finch coughs and slides his chair back to his computer.

“They’re at her hotel room?” Shaw asks. “Bit stupid don’t you think? They’re still after her.”

“Miss Groves had arranged for alternate housing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finch hesitates.

“They’re at her apartment.”

“Root has an apartment?”

“Caroline Turing does.”

Shaw collects a bag of weapons, tossing in a few grenades in despite Reese’s raised brow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Reese says, grabbing his own arsenal.

“Miss Shaw? Is there a reason for all the…firepower?”

“Where’s her apartment?” Shaw asks, swinging the backpack on.

Finch blinks rapidly. “Are you-“

“She needs backup. Latvian mob? They’re going to send someone else after her and soon.”

“They’re no longer at the apartment, Miss Groves volunteered to show our number the city. To keep an eye on her.”

Shaw shakes her head. Leave it to Root to turn a one night stand into a date.

-

Fiddling with her coffee cup, Shaw takes a sip, watching Root and Carmen while they wander through the park. Carmen loops her hand through Root’s arm, leaning in close and laughing airily. Carefree. Boisterous. The completely opposite of Shaw’s chuckles.

 _“You’ve never been here before?”_ Carmen asks Root. “ _I thought you lived here!”_

_“Well, I always pass by going to the office, does that count?”_

“No sigh of danger today,” Reese pipes up from her comm link.

She spots him at the other end of the street, looking at street art as Carmen and Root continue on their date.

“They’re boring,” Shaw complains.

“They’re on a date Shaw, that’s how it goes.”

“Dates are boring.”

“Complain to Root, maybe you can tell her to go someplace where more gunfire would occur,” Reese says.

Shaw tosses her lukewarm coffee, stalking past a pretzel stand and ordering one. “Her comm’s still off.”

Reese hums.

“What?” Shaw hisses.

“Looks like they’re having lunch.”

Shaw takes a peek, some little bistro at the middle of the park, Shaw rolls her eyes, overly priced food geared towards tourists.

 _“I’m playing again tonight, you should come._ _I promise it’ll be better than last night.”_

Root laughs. _“It wasn’t that terrible. Honestly not even the top five worst nights I’ve had.”_

_“You’re just saying that. What’s worse than having a girl you invited over pass out and throw up on you?”_

_“You’d be surprised.”_

Shaw nearly snorts, but Reese’s voice makes her sneer instead.

“Looks like their night didn’t end as good as we thought,” Reese says.

“So?” Shaw says, taking a large bite out of her pretzel.

“I believe Ms. Groves will be with Ms. Morales until she has to prepare for her DJ work tonight, perhaps one of you should follow the lead on the Latvian mob?” Finch suggests through their ear pieces.

“I got it,” Shaw says, glancing one last time at Carmen touching Root’s shoulder.

-

Shaw opens the door of Reese’s car and plops down onto the passenger side seat. She holds her hand out for his camera.

“You have a bit of…”  Reese gestures to Shaw’s neck.

Shaw wipes at it with a spare towel, grunting at the blood rubbing off her neck. She wets the towel and wipes off the remaining blood from her skin.

“How was the interrogation?” Reese asks, cursory check maintaining that it is indeed not Shaw’s blood on her.

“Someone from LA hired them, they got her picture, when she’d be DJing. Whoever it is knows her from there and wants her really dead.”

Reese nods, handing her the camera. “Root’s in there with Morales. She’s checking up on the building details.”

“She get any insight from Morales?”

“They didn’t have a heart to heart if that’s what you’re asking, mostly just small talk, a lot of flirtation.”

“Wait,” Shaw says. She adjusts the lens on her camera, snapping a few shots. “Looks like a couple of the other Latvian gang, that tattoo.” Shaw points to the ink barely hidden by the man’s shirt.

Reese turns on his comm to Finch’s line, “Finch, they’re taking her out now.”

“Yes, Ms. Groves has just advised us on another intruder entering the back, she’s going to hide Ms. Morales while you and Ms. Shaw take care of the threats.”

“Finally,” Shaw says, upholstering her gun.

The man at the end of the street notices Shaw, he pauses for a second, a look of confusion before taking out his own gun and firing at her. Shaw dives behind the car, popping off two shots into his knees.

“Looks like mistaken identity worked out Shaw,” Reese says, motioning for her to go ahead to the building.

“We do not look alike,” Shaw grits out.

Another gang member sees Shaw and immediately reaches for his knife, only for Shaw to kneecap him and punch his teeth out.

“They sure seem to think you’re Morales,” Reese says.

“How many more?”

“Ms. Groves says there are four wandering around inside,” Finch answers.

“Six people? Seriously who did she piss off?” Shaw mutters to herself.

“Two on the ground floor and two up scouting, please hurry.”

“You go up, I’ll go down,” Shaw says to Reese.

“Sweetie, can you do me a favor and leave the one in the red shirt conscious?” Root says into her ear.

“Long time no talk Root,” Shaw says, clearing the hallways.

“Missed you too, but I do need him to talk. He knows who hired them.”

“Fine.”

She follows the man in the grey shirt until he rounds the corner, slams his head against the wall and puts him a chokehold, waiting until he passes out.

“Behind you,” Root instructs.

Shaw whirls around, gun already aimed to take out his kneecaps. The man in red drops with a scream. More gunfire upstairs signaling Reese and his own assailants. And all is silent, except for the man’s groans.

Shaw kicks away his gun.

“Thanks Sam,” Root purrs in her earpiece. “Now could you step away for just a bit? I’m coming out with Carmen.”

“And why do I need to go away?”

“Sam.”

Shaw grunts, disappearing into the shadows, but keeping her eyes and gun trained in case.

Root and Carmen come out, Carmen shrinking and shaking beside Root while Root tuts and takes out the man’s phone.

“I won’t tell you anything,” the man says in accented English.

“You won’t have to,” Root says. She scrolls through the phone rapidly, forehead creased.

She turns to Carmen. “Do you know a Cherie Jaffe?”

Carmen transforms from terrified victim to rage. “Cherie Jaffe? She’s trying to kill me? Are you fucking kidding me?” She runs a hand through her hair, cursing.

“I guess you do,” Root says. “Scorned ex-lover?”

“Not mine,” Carmen grunts. She kicks at the man, ignoring his pained groan. “My ex’s ex.”

“So why does your ex’s ex want you dead?”

“Shane and I…slept together a couple weeks ago, it was a relapse I wasn’t even…” Carmen grunts again. “Definitely a mistake. Guess Cherie took that as something else.”

Root looks off to the side, head tilting. “Shane wants you back.”

“Fuck her,” Carmen hisses.

“You did.”

Carmen levels an unimpressed glare at Root. She relaxes slightly and shakes her head. “You’re not really a psychologist are you?”

“No. Sorry.”

“But you did save my life.”

“A little bit. My…associates, did most of the work, I just had to keep you safe.”

Carmen shakes off her initial shock and gains back her charm. She steps into Root’s breathing space and – Nope.

Shaw turns around and shuts off her comm. She’s not watching someone who everyone says looks like her kiss Root.

-

Downing another shot of whiskey, Shaw signals for the bartender for one more. The bartender reluctantly pours her another at her glare and wisely keeps his distance from her.

“Hey,” Root says, sliding into the open seat next to her.

“Root.”

“I would offer to buy you another, but your B.A.C. is definitely above limit after this one.”

Shaw sips at her drink, eyeing Root over the rim of her glass. “Where’s Carmen?”

“Safe in police protection while the LAPD arrests Cherie Jaffe. There was a surprising amount of evidence on the Latvian’s phone.”

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.”

Root rests her head on her hand. “Course not,” she says unconvincingly.

“What are you doing here Root?”

“Can’t a couple of gals get some drinks after a successful mission?”

Shaw shakes her head, pointing to Root at the bartender and ordering for her. Root delicately sips at the harsh liquor numbing her tongue, she reaches over the bar and grabs a few pieces of ice and drops it into her drink.

“Did you fuck her?” Shaw asks point blank.

Root stills, eyes wide. She sits back in her chair, eyebrow raised in question. “No.”

“You wanted to.”

“Yes.”

Shaw shakes her head. “You should’ve.”

Root licks her lips, black fingernails tapping against her glass. “I could’ve.” Root sips at her drink. “But I didn’t.”

Shaw slips off her seat, putting in more than enough cash to cover her drinks and a sizable tip. She flips her hair out of her jacket, side-eyeing Root.

“Well?” she asks. “You coming or what?”

Root blinks, a slow smile of realization spreads across her face.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Shaw says, tugging on Root’s hand.

Root still in her disbelieving state gets shoved against the brick wall of a building and Shaw grips her jacket tightly.

“You call me Carmen and I will end you.”

“Is that supposed to make me want to call you Car-“

Shaw tugs her down, biting on Root’s bottom lip until it bleeds.

Smiling despite the pain, or really for the pain, Root winds her hand behind Shaw’s neck, kissing even more aggressively than Shaw does.

 


End file.
